


cryptic

by YouMinLi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Autumn, Books, Coffee Shops, How Do I Tag, I really need to stop using those two tags in literally everything I write, I'll let you judge how good or bad it is, I'm being dumb we get it, M/M, Nature, Poet - Freeform, Spirits, Supernatural Elements, Tea, Unsettling Nature, Winter, technically I have all the exos in here you just have to squint and use your imagination, there is some poetry in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouMinLi/pseuds/YouMinLi
Summary: Lu Han was human. Or is he still human? Jongdae, Chen, is very much human. So, wanting to know more about Jongdae would just be natural, curiosity of an older spirit. Going further than just curiosity? That's what they call humanity.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Lu Han
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Round 3: Autumn and Winter - On the Snow





	1. Choosing

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Flake:** #385
> 
> **Author's Note:** I saw this prompt and I was like oh. Oh. _Ohhhh_. Then I saw the pairing and I was already halfway through crafting the fic before I could even click on the claiming form, so thank you so much to the prompter for such a beautiful idea, and I hope you like it! Thank you to my [beta](archiveofourown.org/users/extensive_scribe) for pushing me forwards during the little spots where my mind was catching on things that were not entirely there, and the biggest thank you to the mods for organizing such a beautiful and amazing fest, and being so understanding.

Crunching of foliage as death settles in to collect, taking the world as its own. A glorious end, for those who believe in that. Fluttering leaves falling, red of the burning, dying sky, and red of the lost in the trees. Sure, there’s still laughter and cheer of humans, bouncing about on a carousel of cold. It’s getting dark. Don’t get lost outside.

There’s fluidity in the wind today. There’s a crying couple by the wishing fountain where they shared their first kiss, long ago, too long ago. They threw a coin in, and embraced when a petal followed their offering into the disguised acid. No one asks how the wish comes out, they just make it, convictionless. Living things are so funny and interesting things, squirming masses of life, trying to cling at the shreds they were offered.

Might as well leave them to their suffering.

The wind shifts, and it’s back to the best pond, of crimson and gold and tangerine, all dulled in comparison to the brown, flying into the sky, falling underneath, covering them in the loss of hope that shouldn’t arrive. There are more shadows around, much more, but the best vantage point is in the embracing arms of a dead tree, “sleeping” for the brief night.

But today, today there’s someone else here. A man? He wears a crown of fire on his brow, given by a far too nice sun, spirit in the sky, though it should be the dark pouring of drowning chocolate. 

Alone. He’s all alone, with the woods and the wind and the darkness encroaching on him. A wind ruffles the pages of the book in his hands, brushing against his hair and teasing at the collar of his overcoat, but he doesn’t move, only turning the page at his pace. How interesting, this man on the unused park bench, becoming covered with leaves and the brokenness of the air and not minding at all. 

He stays still like this for far too long, until there is no light besides the high moon, and the man finally stands, brushing off nature that tried to take him, like a statue coming back to life. 

If he looked like a king adorned by the sun, he nearly looks deathly in the silver of the moon, asking him to play at being something far less human, a role that he seems to embrace. Stunning, the way his eyes seem almost to glow slightly as he looks around the shadows for something familiar, before smiling to himself, a little inside joke perhaps. And then he turns and heads back to civilisation and the light. 

Ah well. He was nice to look at while it lasted, might as well let him finally get some sleep.

~~~

The man reappears during cat-nap hours, whence the sun soothes people to sleep and the wind does them a favour and ushers them to a better place to do so. He still has the same book, but today a pen and notebook. He sits down at the exact same spot as he did yesterday, with the exact same conviction as he makes himself comfortable. 

It’s a wonder to watch him reading, the way that he feels the need to scribble something into his notes every so often, how he pulls open the notebook while careful to keep his page and spot in the book.

He doesn’t make a sound, but his actions and little facial expressions are just so loud. Just a few pages from the end, the seemingly peace the man created for himself is disturbed by the sudden appearance of a shrill noise from the man’s pocket. His phone. The book and notebook both get brushed off to the side as he scrambles to stop it, the wind taking the moment to nicely flutter with the pages, a hard-won victory.

“What?” The man snaps, hurriedly flipping through the book to try and mark his place with the pen as his phone is roughly held in place by his shoulder. It’s a moment of uncertainty and shakenness, and he’s off balance.

“Because I was reading and I didn’t want to be disturbed, I told you this earlier.” His voice isn’t that loud yet, but it seems like the kind that could easily fill a hall, if he just choses. Many a musical or opera singer would probably kill for his pipes, an incredible value.

“Really?” The fluttering of pages and scrambling stops, and the man shifts to take his phone in his hand, surprised by a motion. 

“Fine, I’ll be there in a bit. You better not start before I get there.” His voice, now that it’s calmer, seems to be a baseline. Low, but comfortable, a slight warmth that seems to follow him around, expressed perfectly. 

The call ends amicably, and the man gathers his things in a hurry, smoothed wrinkles and books quickly snapped close. It’s no longer a leap to assume he’ll come back, even if he rushes away, sunset nipping at his heels. Maybe he’ll be back tomorrow, or he might not be back before the frost sets. Human beings are unpredictable like that.

~~~

When the man comes back this time, he’s not alone. He’s with a friend, one seeming to be far bolder and excitable. His friend rambles at a speed that would let far too much loose within too long, but within the silences of his too-loud breaths, there is calculation, a hint of watching out for the world that watches out for him. 

In comparison to this fair mouthed prince, the man seems almost quiet, disgruntled in nature. However, there’s always a hint of a smile, excitement and the happiness of love fluttering around him.

The friend is secure enough in his ideals and path to be so foolish as to turn his back on the way he goes, barely able to keep his eyes off the breathless human. The saying that good-looking people always gather together isn’t exactly a wrong thought, but most of those are not people that others would wish to gather around. These two seem to be different. The man looks out for his friend, and though they stare at each other, they watch each other’s backs.

“Come with me, please! You love the outdoors and hanging around leaves!” The friend pleads, though it’s less of a plea and an expression. He already knows the answer that the man will give, it’s just a matter of when.

“Baekhyun, just because I like reading outside doesn’t mean I’m going to just hike up a mountain. I don’t know how to hike, and I don’t like hiking!” The man’s resolve is cracking, care steeping from every single word he utters. He’s just so warm.

“You’ll like this, it’s a really beautiful place and it’s a beginner’s trail! You barely need to do anything, just come and walk with me.” The friend, the one referred to as Baekhyun, wheedles, inches from tripping and falling down. The man is too kind to steer him away from disaster, perhaps why Baekhyun trusts him so.

“Why are you asking me? You have other hiking partners besides Kyungsoo, don’t you? What happened to Chanyeol and Yixing and Zitao?” The man doesn’t have any excuses to use, only a stalling of time. Baekhyun would be a deadly enemy and an even worse friend, a silver tongue that slips past defenses as he says all the words that were expected to be heard and some that are wished for. He’s sly, but he’s loved.

“You know that Yeollie caught the same bug as Soo so they’re both recovering in a hole somewhere. Xing would, but he’s unfortunately shit at taking photos, and he and Tao both have a business trip they need to go to.” 

“Then why can’t you go alone? Or wait for Kyungsoo to get well?” The man kicks some leaves up, sending prettied death flying up at Baekhyun, who just ducks away.

“It’s not safe to hike alone anywhere. There are things in the mountains that one person should not face alone.” How smart of him.

The man raises an eyebrow, apparently not accepting Baekhyun’s point. Baekhyun bounces back a few more steps before he drops his brave face and ends up with a smile. 

“Okay, to be honest, my insta page is getting kinda dry, and even though I can’t compete with Nini, I need some good pictures. This trail is literally the prettiest thing, like the leaves are all sorts of red and orange and yellow, and there’s even a waterfall, and if we go this weekend, then there should still be leaves falling. If I go after this week then the leaves would all just be on the ground and it won’t be pretty and artsy.” Mortals and their endless fascination with chasing after the approval of other mortals, as well as their fascination with the so-called pretty looking things. It’s fascinating, and the way it could spiral down so quickly is remarkable. 

“So you’re just using me as an unpaid photographer?” The man complains with no bite, stepping into the perfect spot for the adoration of the sun as usual. 

“Basically. Please, Chen?” Chen? What a charming way of address. 

“Fine.” Chen rolls his eyes, golden globes matching the shade of his buttons and the light dripping down Baekhyun’s frozen hair, stuck in transformation between what should and what it wishes to be. “I’ll go hiking with you.” 

Baekhyun cheers, nothing fake about this happiness. There’s a bit more blabbering, but of less significance to anything but the wind and listening ears. Either way, their brilliance is tiring. Better to find a different pair, watch others in their backstabbing pleasure.  
  


And a shift of scene.

~~~

A wash of diamonds fall. Liquid wind and frozen fears clatter down the face of a cliff, moving too fast to freeze, too fast to be stopped just yet. It’s been a long time since the clatter of a waterfall wasn’t covered up by the insistence of a fluttering human voice, a long time since one was as powerful as this. The image of a different fall of liquid glass almost covers up the original, blends among water and air and froth. 

The leaves sing, and the image is gone, time stealing it away once again. Mortal voices, sing-song and happy, one significantly cheerier than the other. Baekhyun and Chen. What a nice surprise. Who could have guessed that this change of scenery was also the one they desired?

“Baekhyun,” The man, Chen, has on different clothes, ones that do not flutter and fly around when battered with the wind, but stays close. The wind heaves a sigh, teasing fun dwarted as more unfamiliar things stir. Of course they would, for loud senses attract our kind the most. 

Things are favourable towards Chen as they should, splatters of light trying their best to illuminate the parts they can reach, echoing the soft glow of the leaves. The wind has even pitched in, crowning him with whirls of amber-bronze. One particularly smart breeze lays a perfect example, stolen colors from the setting sun, in the cushion of his head. The others immediately follow in their pause, too wary of disturbing the balance to try and include their own additions and give Chen the laurel he deserves.

Baekhyun bounces ahead, clearly the more familiar of the two as he moves without fear. Not the wisest move, especially when they announce their presence to the whole wilderness with each step they take. The wind has no qualms about teasing him, and he matches every tumble with a better leap of his own. If a human could fly, it would be Baekhyun right now, too beloved of the wind to land when he should.

“Yes, dear Chen?” Baekhyun turns around, all brightness and invigoration from the movements, like the red that dusts his cheeks slightly.

“Can we stop? I’m tired.” Chen groans, feet too heavy against the ground, movement jerkier than usual, though it may be attributed to the pack on his back, dragging him down whilst Baekhyun’s floats weightlessly with him.

“We’ve barely walked anywhere.” Baekhyun spins like the wind spins him, carefree and wildness, exclaiming to the world around him.

“We’ve been walking 3 hours without a break. I’m not Kyungsoo or Chanyeol or someone who can actually keep walking for so long.” Chen’s fingers are unsure and fluttery as they reach for his bag straps, grabbing and slipping as he tries to free himself from his burden.

“Fine, fine, fine. I guess I should start taking some pictures by the waterfall.” Baekhyun muses, slowing down, muted, quieter as Chen finally frees himself from his burden, dropping it onto the ground with a thump. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re using that excuse to only get me to hike with you and laugh at how out of shape I am.” Chen grumbles, bones and limbs going into unnatural angles of bending and snapping, stretching out the kinks and foils as Baekhyun stands on lookout.

“Of course not, why would I ever do such a thing?” False dishonesty echoes through Baekhyun’s every statement, and their eyes finally meet in a similar level of being. Baekhyun’s fingers are swifter, more sure as he snaps the restraints holding his baggage up. “Wait, don’t move.”

Chen freezes in an instance, trusting to the core, especially with the way Baekhyun’s voice falls to a place of seriousness, a command for others to follow. There’s no barriers between the two as Baekhyun crosses over the stretch of land between them in two strides, a feat seeming longer than his legs would allow, yet somehow doing so anyways.

“What? What is it?” Chen plays the possum standing up, waiting for whatever attack Baekhyun arranged. Baekhyun, for his part, gets in close, to a distance too many humans have fought over, eyes searching for an opportunity. 

“You have a leaf in your hair.” He lets his voice trail off purposefully as he brushes the perfect shape in Chen’s hair, framed by an ocean of light brown, like a little ship floating above the waves. His eyes then travel down to Chen’s cheeks, rubbing gently over skin seeming to be softer than allotted, fingers coming to a rest cupping a jawline that would be deadly sharper. 

The silence is too loud, too piercing, and the crashing must go louder and louder to end whatever sort of a bubble traps them in. A curling of power and a different splash that still startles them naught from their reviere, so it must be a physical interruption, one that these woods would be happy to provide.

“That’s it? I thought you meant something happened.” Chen does not lean in closer nor move further, irrational apparent yet a sense of relief at floating away within Baekhyun’s eyes. 

If only the leaves could scream, then maybe then these two will leave.

“No, nothing much. I just thought it looked nice on you.” Baekhyun plays with words, tone jumping about as his eyes search for a sign. If he wants a sign, a sign will be given. 

“Okay.” 

One would suggest that a call to those nestled in would be swifter, though it is understandable that when resting, they would not move. Figures, relying on others don’t work well enough.

“Thank you for telling me about the leaf and all, but are you going to take it out?” Chen finally asks, enough of the silence.

Crackling, shifting form, it’s been a while since the last time there was substance underneath the sensation of more. 

“No. You look pretty with it.” Baekhyun has long passed teasing, though it still stands that he stands there, far too close in place. 

“Then what are you doing any of this for?” Chen questions, no humor on his lips either.

“I can look, can’t I? When my baby looks so good, all nice and cute in his new hiking gear.” Baekhyun coos, back to the joking nature he always had. 

Sickening, his changes back and forth. The hoof borrowed stamps lightly, but in the silence, lightly is more than loud enough. 

Both heads finally leave each other, and travel to the sight presented before them, one slower than the other. Correct procedure.

“Oh.” Chen breathes, imploring Baekhyun to hurry up, move faster. Baekhyun is smart enough to not.

“What is it?” He turns slow but still too quick, quicker than he should. If this was not a farce, it would be long gone by now.

“A stag. He looks magnificent.” Chen’s arms travel to his pocket, moving slowly yet still fumbling, trying to pull something out. His eyes don’t dare to leave for too long, as if expecting it to all evaporate into thin air.

“Oh wow.” Baekhyun finally glances over, eyes reveling in a sight that he clearly has not seen before. “I’ve never seen a deer before on a hike, this must be your lucky day.”

“Yeah, right? Did I leave my phone in my bag too?” Chen mutters half to himself when a search of his pockets turn up empty, finally breaking the moment the two shared, lowering himself to the ground like his baggage and leaving Baekhyun’s hands clutching an invisible statue.

Baekhyun lowers his hands slowly as Chen’s scrambling grows all the more frantic, memories not serving the correct purpose. It’s a wonder how he stares, looking past the fine horns and into the darkness of eyes, staring straight. He knows. He knows that this is not real as it should be, yet he would not ruin it for Chen’s pleasure.

There’s a pause, moments while Chen stays occupied, letting fangs and a gaping maw to appear, test Baekhyun to see if he is enough.

Baekhyun still would not scream. 

“Got it!” Chen pulls the camera out slowly, and finally positions himself for a shot. The sound of the camera mimics an actual shot, and as Chen lowers his camera, it poses a second of looking down, looking at his picture and looking away. 

The perfect moment to use, turning back from body into dust, evaporating along with the air. Baekhyun traces every moment but he is smarter than to talk.

“The deer left? It went so quietly I didn’t even hear it go.” Chen resumes his normal quiet, the state of frozen finally gone. Birds start chirping, and Baekhyun takes care to mask his startling.

“Yeah, it was really quiet.” His eyes still scan the rooftops for another sign, looking not in the deadliness of the waters behind. “But then again, after that sound anyone would’ve ran. Why did you take the picture with the flash on?” 

Chen frowns, a mistake acknowledged and yet not to be properly discussed. “I forgot it was on, okay? But I got the picture, I’ll send it to you later.”

Baekhyun finally unfreezes, a false sense of safety slipping over as he thinks about what Chen should see. They are not truly in danger, humans rarely will be, and usually because of the clutches of a different one. “Thanks, now are you going to make me look good for my instagram or not?”

Boring. It would be more pleasant to watch Chen in poses of haughtiness, an aboveness that he does not embody even if the light looks good, shining on him and the one false eye he holds in front of his face. Time for a quieter grove, one without these bold ones, yet maybe close enough so that their claim is the first to be seen when turning.

~~~

The city is a concrete jungle, isn’t that what others have called it before? Loudness and boldness almost drives away the possibility of staying, yet why would Chen rush so instantly through the place, moving about with a quietness that lingers even in the call of the city.

Horns honking next to ears, wind trying to spread into the memory of all, cars screeching, stopping, pausing, dying, to the pattern of red green and yellow. A travesty, yet Chen stays warm despite it, turning a corner and finally rushing into a building. 

A moment of hesitation would be considered too long, so there is less than a moment before rushing in as well. 

“Mr. Kim?” Chen answers to the name, looking quickly and finding who called him. Kim Chen. Charming sounds. 

“Yes, that’s me. I apologise for being late, it took me longer than I expected to find a parking spot.” Chen bows his head slightly in apology, but the lady just smiles pleasantly. 

“Don’t worry, you’re just on time. Do you want to take your coat off? The kids are waiting for you.” 

Kids. Huh. Sterile clean front, piercingly lit by white, and rounded corners and softer cushions all around. For kids. A nursery.

“Ah, thank you. Are they in the usual room?” Chen asks, quickly slipping out of his coat and scarf, handing them over by second nature to the lady behind the desk who he speaks to.

“Yes. Have fun!” 

A building. Humanmade, trapping the occupants within walls and a roof that keeps out the wind and the sun. It has been awhile since the last time being within a structure like so, tight and sealed. 

Following Chen down the narrow and closed halls, these ones seem to be at least attempting to seem comforting, knee-level drawings and wild scratches of colour only attained by a talented cat or some young children let loose. Either way, it’s still a trapping of a building, yet regret of the curiosity that followed Chen in does not come.

Still, there is a long road that Chen travels slowly, trying to calm himself with, and infinite ways to try and think about why to leave, complaints. The building is a mortal and quite imperfect structure posing at perfection.

And children, closer to the divide of the mortal realm and those beyond since they had just arrived, and without the leashed up and unforgiving natures humans tend to adopt over time. Children are fascinating, even if they stare too much for comfort at times. It would be easier if they knew when to be scared and when to bite their tongues. But alas, they do not, for better or for worse.

Chen finally rounds the last corner and slows in front of a door, the door that barely hides the shrieks of what can only be described as hideous joy. Yet it’s so simply pure and unadulterated, and even if Chen takes a second to gather a breath of courage for wandering right in, he draws on a smile, not one as a barrier but as a response.

Like several little magnets attracted to the most interesting thing in the room, most eyes swivel directly to the opening of the door, landing immediately on Chen. 

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Several actually abadon their stations, running with colours flying all directly at Chen. And Chen does not try to retreat.

“Hey everyone! Didn’t someone tell you before to not run at someone with wet paint in your hands?” Chen falls to his knees, arms open to receive some of the painted children despite the mess. 

The darkest shadow is by the closet door, but the window plants lazy invitingly, a breath of fresh air filtered for those who use up air too fast. It’s unnerving to see eyes following on the journey over, watching them watch what they consider to be the most interesting thing in the room, something unnatural. Kids. This is the hesitation Chen relates.

“Okay everyone, since Mr. Kim is here, it’s time to clean up your painting supplies and change out of your smocks for story time.” A man at the front of the room calls, taller and more serious than someone usually hired for children care. But underneath that first glance, he’s kind, too gentle for children and clearly trusted by them. 

A whirl of children, tinier than would be expected, move to start cleaning up in only the way you can say that a group of tiny ones do, herded slightly by both Chen and the teacher. A mess, spilled paint getting in too many places and some children not cleaning but just working against themselves. Children have no hubris beause all that they do contain hubris, but perhaps one or two here have too much, self-hurt too hard in their actions.

Then a small one, a little girl with paint on her chin and a completely purple painted brush in her hand walks up, staring. Staring at what must be a mass that she sees, a difference from just the plant.

“Reba, what are you looking at?” The teacher in his giant lumbering steps and trained perceptive eyes for watching kids stare at other realms walks by, bending so he doesn’t dwarf her, but speaks to her. What a kind man.

Instead of an answer, she points up, a glaring sign. He offers an embrace and the support up. She accepts and rises into the air, proper eye level.

“Reba, what do you see?” What does she see indeed.

Reba is quiet, not enough words for the swirling mess that might be in her brain. One day she’ll talk and no one will get her to stop again. Kids have so much potential but use it in too predictable of ways, but Reba does not look predictable. She raises a hand up, finger pointing directly, at what must seem to the teacher as the space between the pot and the window. 

“Reba, I can't see everything that you see. Want to tell me what it is?” Interesting. This must be why the kids like him, mortals are not accustomed to admitting their own flaws and shortcomings.

Reba shakes her head. Good, she is smart. 

“Okay. Mr. Kim is about to start reading his stories soon, and you don’t want to miss that, do you?” 

Reba shakes her head again, and past the duo standing are the other children starting to huddle together around Chen, an unreasonable amount of calm for the kids which is more than ever expected. 

“How about you listen to the stories first and then come back to look at this? I’m sure nothing will leave until then.” Misdirection instead of discouragement, a good way to deal with any mortal, especially the tiny ones. 

Reba finally nods, and for this agreement she is rewarded with a bounce, the teacher turning and bringing her forth to Chen in the circle, completely surrounded. Now that Reba isn’t following completely, a higher vantage point, resting above in the light that favours Chen still, though a dead light, unnaturally bright. 

“Okay, is everyone settled? I’m ready to start reading if you are all ready to start listening.” A wave of little heads bob, blabbers quieting as Chen’s voice overlaps over them. Reba gets the paint wiped off her chin before settling in as the last piece of the puzzle, all eyes intently focused on the way Chen moves. He holds out the book, moving it slowly so everyone has a chance to properly see it, read it, view it so they wouldn’t miss a single moment. 

“The Little Rabbit and The Moon.” Chen’s voice is once again back to the baseline purr, a hum of magic above his words, slow and beautiful as they are. No wonder everyone holds their breaths as if a huff could drown out the power, miss a single word, break the spell. 

“Once upon a time, in a land, far, far ago, there was a little rabbit.” The door to the room slides open, not daring to creak either for fear of stopping Chen’s gentle tone either. The teacher slips out, a soft smile on his face that turns thin as soon as the door nearly finished ushered him out. Understandable, children are so interesting yet draining.

“This little rabbit was small, with cute button eyes and a small fluffy tail.” Chen sings not, yet the air around him sings. Even now, under false light and curbing some of the more interesting parts of people that anyone can see, he’s beautiful, so beautiful. But moments like this will pass by too quickly, so sometimes it’s not about the thoughts regarding them, but basking in the moment.

“This little rabbit had a dream, and it was to go to the moon.” 

~~~

Like clockwork when the wind changes, Chen ends up by the park bench once again during the time when the sun glows, leaves swirling, falling, trying to cover him whole. It’s so apparent how gorgeous he is, for everything around, yet none of them should be allowed anywhere near him, settled to steal his words, his image, him. 

His eyes are unseeing as they pierce into worlds beyond this, fictional and not across realms he may sometimes feel. They’re an amber, pooled honey and caramelisation, sweeter than anything that can be imagined. The way they trace over every word, every machine-stroked line, lingering, as if trying to give them its full attention and respect due, valuing every single bit as if it was the most important one there. He’s captivating right now, but just as captivating as he always is.

A laugh rings out in the air, a pause and slight jump echoing around. Chen, laughs. It’s such a clear sound, crisp and joyful, delight in its purest form, the sound of something that is unattainable because of its price, but enough to sink into, bask and gain warmth because of its Existence. 

Being wrong is a new sensation, but it was only because of a quick misspeak. Chen’s laugh is the thing sweeter than can be imagined, or perhaps just all parts of him.

The laugh soon tapers off into a smile, truer than most things seen before. It has no intention to please, no intention to lie or cover up, and less to pretend. It’s a shame that Chen is not laughing with that sweet sound of his, but perhaps this smile is a greater reward than the laughter, staying on for anyone to behold, to see what true pleasure is in its shape. 

It’s also new and irrational to think so like this, because there is little guaranteed besides the up and down course of life, but it’s worth wondering how to be able to keep that brilliant smile on Chen’s face as much as possible. Perhaps even a laugh or two, on occasion, like the sweet blessings of a treat when especially happy. 

The wind changes, shifting. The glow the sun throws is dulled, muted by the change of the air, familiar but strange both at the same time. Chen’s smile slips off his face. 

His phone does not ring, yet he’s digging in his pocket for it anyways, book on hold with a marker of his place. He leaves as soon as he sees the screen, blank of notifications, and for the first time in awhile, it’s not time to follow him, see what he would do next in his gentle manner. The change needs to be confronted, strange and similar as it is.

What sounds like a different laugh floats up from where it had settled on the leaves, almost piercing, but still too familiar to be wary. What had felt the need to scare Chen off?

“It’s so nice to see that you’ve settled nicely into time.” A voice should not be a voice alone. But the voice evokes warmth, change, a wish for the touch of a hug, longing? 

“Oh, can you not speak? But your voice is one of your best qualities, you need to find it again.” A voice of whose? 

“Or is it because you don’t remember me? Can’t see me?” What responses are being hoped for?

“Fine, I’ll make you remember. Time robs you, but you will not have been robbed.” Then, an ugly twisting, maybe from air, maybe finally from the lurking leaves, but it’s a familiar twisting. The shift finally settles with the emergence of man from his form, the timelessness that is what was remembered. For the first time in what seems to be a long time, there’s a feeling, a movement, in where should have been a chest but is now just air. 

The man looks directly at, hair and robes out of an era long dead but still too familiar. A quick shift, for hair to fall off and clothes to shorten into the fashion sense of today, but he still looks like the immortal thing that he never fully disguised quite well enough. Spectacularly alluring and exquisite as he always is.

A memory of a voice. “Kim Minseok.” 

“Oh good, you still remember.” Minseok beams, ever charming like he always had been, always is. “It’s been awhile.” 

Ha, awhile. Acting like he didn’t change everything. 

“It’ll look weird if I speak only to thin air. Change back to your original form.” Minseok commands. Original form? This is the original form.

“Your original form. Don’t tell me that you’re forgetting.” 

Not forgetting nor forgotten, but what does Minseok say? 

Minseok rolls his eyes, snappish exhaustion pouring off. “Don’t play dumb, I know you better than this, Lu Han.”

Lu Han. Him. What was once him. Or is it still? Human, not immortal. Minseok was always immortal. But he is now too? How do you change back into the original form if neither of them are in their original forms?

There’s a ringing, no not a ringing, a ringing is too bell-like, too clear. A zing, buzzing, pitched low but quickly picking up speed, going higher and higher and higher. 

Lu Han blinks. Eyes, he has eyes again. He blinks once more and suddenly he’s sitting on the bench next to Minseok, a capture of the moment that Minseok had changed him. Oh, his body. It feels heavy after so long without it.

“You look ridiculous.” Minseok scoffs, an easy smile coming over his face. Lu Han looks down, finding himself dressed in the last pair of robes he remembered having. Light blue silk that Minseok had bought him as a gift, which Lu Han was quite certain was nothing a mortal could make. Looking back, it seems that he was right. 

“You got me this.” His voice still works, harsh and grinding, but smoother than Lu Han had remembered. “I was so sure it was going to be my burial outfit.” 

“I’m not saying that you need to get rid of it or anything, but you might want to change into something more modern so people aren’t gawking at you.” Minseok suggests, running a hand over one of the jade decorations in Lu Han’s belt, the little deer carving that he had given. “And your hair is a bit too long for modern standards.” 

“Do you want me to change right here?” Lu Han wishes he could say that he thinks Minseok wouldn’t do that, but Minseok was never the one he knew. 

“No. I gave you power, so you should use it.” Minseok gently unties Lu Han’s belt, pulling all the decorations off. “You are more than what Time bounds you to, take what you need.” 

Lu Han doesn’t ask what. Human beings are the ones who ask too many questions, and he is not human, truly. Besides, he thinks he knows the answer. 

A quick reach through Time, the buzzing this time in his ear as Lu Han feels his flesh mold, melt into what it should be. What he wants it to be. 

Minseok chuckles, flicking a strand of hair that stops right before Lu Han’s eyes, leaning in to look directly into them. Minseok’s eyes, despite all about him that is different, is still the same. They hint of more, more in the world that mortals could never hope to know, more in Time than could ever be dreamed of. The immortal part of him that he does not bother to hide, and the reason Lu Han followed him in the first place.

“And I thought your pretty eyes couldn’t get prettier.” Minseok grins, pulling back before reaching the point when Lu Han would expect to be kissed, handing over the decorations he took off. A pendent from his mother and things of generations passed down from his father, as well as the deer from Minseok. At least what he knew as Minseok then. That life is far over. “Change your hair to purple or yellow. You’ll look better like that.” 

“It feels weird enough as is.” Lu Han runs his hand over its new short length. His head feels so much lighter than it did seconds ago, but it had felt lighter when he didn’t have a head. He wonders where he can grab a mirror.

“In the future then.” Minseok compromises, shrugging his dark blue coat off. “Here, you’re not used to the cold.” 

He draps it over Lu Han’s shoulders, though Lu Han had honestly not even felt the cold before then. He hasn’t felt temperatures in a long time, but it takes Minseok mentioning it for him to remember. Remembering. How much had Lu Han “forgotten?”

“Thanks.” The wind brushes by, reminding Lu Han of yet another thing Time is taking from him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Ah, right.” Minseok pulls on a different coat, pulled from somewhere else. “The man you seem so enamoured by. What are you going to do about it?”

“What?” 

“The man you were watching over earlier. Are you going to do something about him?” Minseok asks. The wind is more persistent, and Lu Han slides his arms into the coat.

“What do you mean by do something about him? What can I do?” Lu Han throws the questions back. He is here to watch, to wait, settled in a nook of Time tucked away that Minseok placed him in. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out earlier, but seeing as you didn’t even think of your original form I’m not surprised. You are I, and you have all the power and desire to act that I do. And I took you.” Minseok closes his eyes, and opens them to the blankness of what he really is, faceless with a face, the being that is less and more at the same time, and what Lu Han now is too. Then he blinks once more and it’s Minseok, Kim Minseok.

“Then why are you here?” Minseok stops, tilts his head in confusion.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here then, after so much time?” Minseok had promised him a million years, a billion years of life together, if he would just go with him, and then immediately vanished upon changing Lu Han. Lu Han isn’t exactly sure that he’ll make the same choice if he was offered the same thing knowing what he knows now.

To his surprise, though it really shouldn’t be, Minseok chuckles. He’s thinking of something else once again.

“You forget your original form but you’re still so human.” He tucks a stand of hair behind Lu Han’s ear, pulling a rose out of time to settle it on top and keep the strand from moving.

Minseok leans in closer, as if about to tell a secret, hand cupping Lu Han’s chin, thumb tracing the outline of a word. “I wanted you for myself because I was just so curious. I wanted to see what you would do, almost like a little experiment. I know people who would have changed into demons, monsters, but you are gentle and curious enough to just watch like it should be. But you’re allowed to do anything you please.”

“Do you love me?” Lu Han asks, finally feeling the character Minseok is determinedly tracing into his skin, love with all its many lines and beautiful shape. 

“Let’s put it this way, would you kiss me right now?” Minseok leans in even more, pushing into Lu Han’s personal space, into the space that he had always thought only Minseok would be able to touch. Lu Han expects to be kissed, but Minseok does not move. They both know the answer to this question. 

Lu Han’s eyes flicker to Minseok’s mouth, impossibly soft lips that he was always charmed by, able to pour out words of honey and kisses of a sugary high, well enough to try a fly. Too bad he’ll never taste them again.

“I don’t know love. It does not exist for me as it does for you, but I do love you.” Minseok continues, lying at the same time he doesn’t. Lu Han understands.

“Do you still want me for yourself?”

Minseok shifts, bypassing the facade of romance to cuddle into Lu Han’s arms, hiding his face from Lu Han’s view. He’s warm, and nice to hold and be held.

“Do you still want to be only for me?”

Lu Han has to laugh at that. “Can’t you answer a question with a straight answer instead of throwing a question back at me?”

“Can you?” Lu Han can tell even without seeing Minseok’s face, that he’s smiling. “That man you like so much? He’s yours if you so choose.”

They both hear the unspoken “choose it.”

“You'll always be around, right?” Lu Han asks, needing to be sure,

“You’ll never get rid of me, we are more than Time itself.” 

Lu Han makes a contented hmm deep in his throat as Minseok tightens his hug. “Good.”


	2. Chosen

“Good afternoon.” Jongdae looks up with a start, the voice startling him from his book, and looks directly into the eyes of an angel. 

The man standing before him wears clothes that could’ve come off any random rack, but he makes them look like the most expensive materials in the world. His hair is slightly longer, curling around his neck and giving him a bit of a prince charming look, but what sells the fairy tale look are his eyes. His eyes are like no other eyes Jongdae’s ever seen before, indescribable but fills Jongdae with a sense of supreme wonder.

“Oh, good afternoon.” Jongdae barely gets the words out, the only thing telling him to continue is the sense that he’s been staring for too long, and that if he doesn’t do something, then this prince will realise.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was just passing by and I couldn’t help but notice what book you’re reading. Is it by Liu Shixun?” The man continues, clearly unaware of Jongdae’s very intense panic. He looks so friendly, so gentle, and he asks about Liu Shixun. Jongdae wasn’t aware that anyone else in this country knew about the author. 

“It is.” Jongdae glances at the cover, checking to make sure that the man was trying to start a conversation based on what Jongdae’s reading instead of performing like mind reading or something. Oh god, his copy of Borderline is barely 2 weeks old and it’s already so beat up, the man must be judging him.

“I love his writing style, it feels so calm but it’s emotionally powerful in a subtle way.” Okay, so the man is clearly trying to start a conversation based on the author. 

“I’ve never really met anyone else who’s read his work before. What was your favourite part of Borderline?” Jongdae asks, tucking a bookmark into his book and putting it down so it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be rude and read while talking. 

“I don’t think I’ve read it before, did he just publish it?” Oh oops, right, not everyone keeps up with Shixun as obsessively as Jongdae does. 

”He did, it came out a week and a half ago.” Jongdae holds his copy of the book for the man to see. The cover is one of his favourite ones, of a tiny water-coloured man in the middle of the sea in a tiny water-coloured boat, both threatened by the wave washing towards them in harsh paint. “He changes his writing style a little so I don’t know if you’ll like it or not.” 

“Well, I’ll have to stop by the bookstore on my way home to find out.” Jongdae chuckles at the way the man’s lips curl up in good humour at that joke, and finally remembers himself. Why is he not offering the man a seat? The bench is clearly big enough for the two of them, actually perhaps big enough for 5 people to squeeze together, and the man is clearly not sitting down out of respect for Jongdae.

“You must be tired from standing, take a seat.” Jongdae slides over slightly to give the man a bit more room, patting the wood besides him. The man gives him a smile that nearly blows Jongdae away with its beauty as he sits, offering a hand to shake.

“Thank you. My name is Lu Han.” The nervous tick of tucking hair behind his ear that Jongdae thought he had long gotten rid of immediately appears again as he grabs Lu Han’s hand in his own. It’s so soft, unnaturally soft in a way that skin usually is not, and his name. Jongdae is not one to marvel at names, but Lu Han sounds like a name that deserves to be marvelled over, gentle and simple sounding, but anything but.

“Lu Han,” he repeats to himself, shaking hands as he thinks. The sound of Lu Han’s name on his lips is melodic, beautiful, and it’s a sheepish moment when Jongdae remembers that he didn’t actually introduce himself. “I’m Kim Jongdae, but most of my friends call me Chen.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Jongdae.” Lu Han stops the handshake, pulling Jongdae’s hand up to his mouth and sending sparks blooming in Jongdae’s chest. Before Jongdae gets to feel too much, he’s brushing a gentle kiss against Jongdae’s hand, and Jongdae feels himself blush slightly at the contact. 

Lu Han’s remarkable eyes meets Jongdae’s eyes as his lips meet his hand, and Jongdae feels something change as he sees the way they almost glitter in the light. Lu Han seems too much to be just mortal, because humans are not this type of beautiful, this type of heart-fluttering. But the thought disappears as fast as it comes when Lu Han lifts his lips up, and they curl into a smile that drives every other thought out of his mind.

Jongdae smiles, lips twisted against his will involuntarily as Lu Han releases his hand and he takes longer than he should to take it back. How else can you react next to such a cute guy?

“Well, which one of your works of his is your favourite?” Lu Han continues the conversation, as if he didn’t just send Jongdae’s heart into overdrive with one incredibly smooth action. “I particularly like What A Life.” 

“What A Life is certainly a classic.” Jongdae replies, his fingers brushing along the edge of Borderline’s spine as he quickly calms down with the help of the topic change, searching his memories for his own thoughts. “I think I like Just Us 2 better, because it’s one of his rare happy endings, even if most people would argue that Just Us 2 isn’t exactly a happy ending.”

“Really? What did you think was the happy ending?” Lu Han wouldn’t be the first one to ask him this question, but the last one who did was saying it with such barely covered hostility, sounding like they would fight if Jongdae didn’t argue his point well enough. Or maybe he was just itching for a fight, it could go either way. Lu Han is gentle instead, inviting a discussion instead of an attack.

“Well, it was really just the way he described the characters.” Jongdae pauses once more, but this time due to the buzzing inside his pocket. He pulls out the call to see that it’s from his boss Junmyeon. Junmyeon is a really nice guy, so he wouldn’t be calling during Jongdae’s off hours without a reason. “Actually, can you give me a second to take this?”

Lu Han nods, and Jongdae gets up, leaving his book to mark his spot. “Hey, What happened?”

“I’m really sorry for disrupting you, but where did you put the Kim files?” Junmyeon sounds just barely almost frantic, but Jongdae’s willing to bet that if he could see the man, Junmyeon would have eyebags darker than hell, halfway through his 5th coffee of the past few days.

“It should be in the top drawer of my desk, where I keep all the files I’m working on. Is it not there?” 

There’s a thump over the phone that Jongdae is willing to bet is Junmyeon smacking his head on his desk. “Jun? Please don’t be dead.”

“It’s not there, I’ve spent the better part of the morning going through your desk to find it.” Junmyeon sighs, and the sigh sounds remarkably like resignation. “Can you please come in? I’ll pay you for overtime, but I just can’t find the files and they need to be handed in to HR by evening or this whole department is fucked.” 

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Jongdae sighs, taking a quick glance at the hot man sitting on the bench waiting patiently for him to finish his call. If he still has his job tomorrow he’ll treat Lu Han to some really good food to make up for this.

“Thanks Chen, you’re a lifesaver.” Junmyeon hangs up as soon as possible, probably to make a few other calls begging for help, and Jongdae turns back to his task at hand of slowly letting down Lu Han.

“Do you have to go?” Lu Han beats him to the punch, shallow disappointment written all over his features.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but something just came up at work.” Jongdae picks up his book and holds his phone out for Lu Han. “Can I get your number so we can plan a better time to talk? Maybe I could buy you a drink or something instead of having it cut short.”

“I would love that.” Lu Han types in his number and calls himself, picking up on a phone that has a release date of next week. Oh, he’s that kind of person.

Still, knowing that Lu Han is either rich or possibly with very good connections doesn’t stop Jongdae’s heart from fluttering when Lu Han hands back his phone with a smile. People are different. Lu Han will be different.

“I’ll text you later?” Lu Han asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“I would love that.” Jongdae replies with a wave goodbye, walking away. His heart whispers that he really would.

~~~

It might be a bit foolish of him to throw his head up every time the little bell over the door jingles like one of Pavlou’s dogs, but Jongdae still does it. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous for this meeting - not a date, not a date - but every time he tells the butterflies in his stomach to go away, they ignore him. Maybe it was a bad idea getting here 20 minutes early. All it does is prolong the pain.

The bell rings again and Jongdae forces himself to not look up. The past 100 times were not Lu Han, this time won’t be Lu Han either. Plus, there’s still a good 10 minutes until the time that they’re supposed to meet, there’s no way it’ll be Lu Han. But there’s still a gut feeling of a familiar aura in the room, soft and gentle with the slight unease of something unnatural...

“Jongdae?” Jongdae snaps his head up at the soft voice, meeting Lu Han’s eyes. He has one hand gently suspended over Jongdae’s shoulder as if to tap, which means that Jongdae probably whipped his head around like he was suspecting an axe murderer.

“Hi. You’re early.” Jongdae pulls his coat off the chair he reserved for Lu Han, and he beams. A few people turn to see where that bright smile was coming from, and Jongdae resists the urge to glare at all of them and force them to look away. 

“Not as early as you. Were you waiting long?” Lu Han settles into the seat with a huge crinkling noise, and Jongdae finally gets a good look at the package in his hands. It’s a wrapped bouquet full of flowers.

“No, I had some extra time so I decided to get here early to steal some seats.” Lu Han nods, reaching for the scarf around his neck. “The flowers are beautiful, do you have an event that you’re going to later?” 

“Oh, no, they’re for you.” Lu Han holds them out, handing them to Jongdae. Oh.

“Thank you.” Jongdae takes them, and damn, they smell like a chorus of perfume, perfectly sweet and hitting all the flowery notes a perfume should be. All the flowers look gorgeous, but the centrepiece is clearly the bundle of purple ones, dark wine veins running down lighter iris petals. The little stamens in the white centre are both reds and oranges, and Jongdae loves them. 

“I didn’t know what your favourite flower could be, so I asked the flourist to pick some especially pretty ones to surround the autumn crocus. They’re the purple ones, and they reminded me of you.” Lu Han explain, gently touching the petal of one poking out, leaning towards Lu Han as if reaching for him. 

“No one’s gotten me flowers before, but I think autumn crocuses might be my favourite.” Jongdae examines the flowers a bit more. They’re such pretty things, a perfect colour against the warmer tones of the autumn exemplified everywhere. Yeah, they’re now his favourite. 

“Really, thank you so much.” When Jongdae over at Lu Han again, his breath catches a bit in his throat. He’s effortlessly posing with a head balanced on one arm, staring straight at Jongdae, piercing into his soul. His eyes flash slightly with an emotion that would probably put all of Paris out of work, and Jongdae wonders if anyone’s ever looked at him like this. He knows that the answer is no, but there’s still a slight shiver as the familiar but eerie feeling rises up again. 

Lu Han smiles, and the moment is broken, replaced with something so much happier with the joy that Lu Han’s smile brings. “It’s nothing, as long as it makes you smile.”

If Jongdae had heard that line anywhere else, he would’ve joined Baekhyun in fake gagging, or maybe fake gagging on his own at Baekhyun. But Lu Han says it so genuinely that Jongdae feels the few words slide straight through his chest and into warming his heart. 

“Do you want anything to drink? I feel bad about taking up space in coffee shops without paying.” Jongdae shakes himself out of the reviere, unable to take the smile off of his face. 

“No, I bought a small coffee when I first came in, just buy yourself something and then we can stay as long as we want.” Jongdae inclines his head to the half-finished iced coffee that he couldn’t help but sip at while waiting for Lu Han to appear. Now he doesn’t need to worry about waiting for Lu Han before drinking.

Lu Han nods, sliding off his seat, leaving behind his coat on the chair to keep anyone from taking it. “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Jongdae nods one last time in acknowledgement, taking a deep sniff of the bouquet again before turning back to Just Us 2. He still can’t keep the smile off his lips as he holds the flowers a bit tighter, not wanting them to accidentally fall.

~~~

When Jongdae was considering a home, he was considering it due to the amount it would cost, its distance from his work, and its distance from his friends’ homes, and in doing so, he forgot to consider the important criteria of would there be enough space to set books. Today, he regrets not factoring that in, because his only bookshelf was repurposed from a shoe stand, and is probably carrying more books than it should. It also means that he does not own as many books as he would like, including most of Liu Shixun’s poetry, only having the two classics, What A Life and Just Us 2, as well as Borderline that Junmyeon bought him in thanks for something that Jongdae had long forgotten about. 

Normally, this would not be much of a problem. But Jongdae does not normally have hot guys wanting to discuss all of Shixun’s writings with him, reading through the book together. 

Lu Han had said last week in the cafe that he would get here at about 2:30, but he arrived 10 minutes early to their last date - no, meeting- so Jongdae should be planning for the same thing to happen. So setting the kettle on the stove for some tea right now probably won’t be too early, since all Jongdae would be doing is rearranging the pillows on his couch so it looks like a proper couch and not somewhere that Baekhyun considers his third bed. 

He considers the idea that they’re doing this because they’re starved of people to talk to about books, and wonders if they should just be done with it and start a book club so they can help others with this same dilemma. Then Jongdae considers the thought of Lu Han staring intensely and with great softness and consideration at someone else talking about their favourite line in Borderline, and immediately rejects the idea. He’s not by any means a selfish person, but Jongdae doesn’t think that he wants to share what seems ready to soon become a weekly meet-up alone on Saturdays with Lu Han.

Sure enough, at 2:15, the doorbell rings, and Lu Han’s voice, somehow still melodic and soft over the crackly speakers, comes through, asking for entrance. 

“Hi, I’m a bit early.” 

Jongdae smiles, not that Lu Han could see, and replies, buzzing him in, “Don’t worry, I am too.” 

Lu Han comes bearing a suitcase of books, a completed collection of all of Liu Shixun’s works, and a bottle of wine. 

“I didn’t know what gifts you should bring when invited over to someone’s home, but this was the best wine I could find.” Lu Han acknowledges sheepishly, 

“You didn’t have to bring anything at all, but thank you.” Jongdae accepts the alcohol gratefully, glad to be supplying his friends with drinks even if he won’t be enjoying it alone. Lu Han changed his hair during the week they didn’t meet, switching from longer black hair to shorter tousled brown, a gentle compliment of the autumn outside. It looks good on him, almost as if a bit gentler, a little less grounded in reality, “You changed your hair.”

“Huh?” Lu Han flicks his eyes up, hand going to gently brush over his head. “Oh yeah, my friend told me that it’ll look better if I dyed it, but it still feels weird.”

“I think you look amazing like this, and in any hairstyle.” Jongdae’s mouth moves before his brain, and Lu Han switches his gaze from his hair to Jongdae. 

“You really think so?” Lu Han asks, a brighter look shining in his eyes. 

Jongdae nods, because he’s not going to lie to that face. “And don’t worry about dying your hair. My hair is also naturally black but my friend wanted someone to join him in dying their hair so I dyed it brown. He has it silver.”

“You also look great with brown hair, it makes your eyes look prettier.” Lu Han states, and Jongdae feels a ping inside his chest.

Before he answers, however, the kettle interrupts, starting to call from the kitchen and calling his attention back to it. Jongdae jerks his head in the general direction of the kitchen, “Do you want some tea? The kettle I set on is boiling.” 

“Yes please.”

Jongdae takes the kettle off with one hand and Lu Han hands the teapot on the counter to his other hand. “Do you have a preference of tea? I have green and black and a bunch of other random teas that my friend brought back from a meeting in China.”

“I like black tea best, if you don’t mind.” 

Jongdae nods. “Sure. Can you pass me the leaves? It’s the second one to the left.”

Lu Han is ruffling through the right cabinet before Jongdae’s even done speaking, pulling out a few leaves and dropping them into the little strainer in the teapot. “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure.” As Lu Han bustles around and puts the tea back into the cabinet, the familiar feeling comes up again, punctured by only the slight shuffling of containers and the cabinet closing. It’s probably nothing, just Jongdae working himself up over this small meeting. 

The snacks have all been prepared, the tea is steeped and in cups, and they’re finally in a seat, ready to start reading. And it also happens to be perfectly 2:30, which means that they get to start perfectly on time.

“What book do you want to start with?” Lu Han holds a cookie in mid-bite, and Jongdae marvels at how he looks like he very much could be someone in an advertisement. Maybe in a different life he could’ve been. 

“Jongdae?” 

Jongdae snaps out of it, reaching into the suitcase and pulling out the first book he gets his hand on so it looks like he was thinking instead of staring at Lu Han. “How about, um, Busted?” 

Busted was Shixun’s first and only known story of comedy and humour, one of his lightest works that ironically is also a murder mystery. It’s not what Jongdae would’ve chosen to start their reading session with since the style is so different from the others, but he dug himself this hole and he will fill it in himself as well.

“Busted? Ah, starting off with the lighter stuff to ease into the existential crises waiting to happen, that’s smart.” Lu Han nods, validating this idea so that Jongdae doesn’t look like a fool. 

Jongdae nods. “Do you want to read it out loud or should we just sit and read together? I read online that hearing it being read out loud would be nice.” 

Lu Han considers the idea, nodding slowly as he chews. “Do you want to take turns reading and switch every other chapter? I think it’ll be fun.”

“Sure. I can start. Get comfortable.” Jongdae jokes, and Lu Han smiles in turn, pulling his legs onto the couch, curling into a pillow. He still looks like he’s modelling, but it’s the way that he huddles away from Jongdae, maintaining a safe distance that prompts Jongdae to open his mouth again. “If you want, you can lean on me.” 

“Really?” Lu Han asks, setting down his cup of tea. “I don’t want to bother you.” 

“Won’t it be more tiring if you have to keep yourself upright this way the entire time?” Jongdae continues, also not completely sure why he’s doing this. “Besides, it’ll make passing the book easier.”

“Sure then.” Lu Han rearranges himself, setting one cheek on Jongdae’s shoulder, legs tucked besides him. He’s warm, the same temperature as the steam rising from their tea cups and probably much warmer than the temperature in the apartment, and it’s comforting, the feeling of another body near his own. “Thank you for all of this.” 

Jongdae had not paused to consider that they would be really close together until he could feel the vibrations of Lu Han’s words vibrating against his shoulder, and if he listened closely, he could hear the continuous in and out of his breath. It’s a gentle form of intimacy being so close like this, but Jongdae doesn’t mind. 

Maybe he’s not doing this because he wants to be in a book club. Maybe he’s just too touch-starved and won’t admit that he just wants someone close enough to rip out his neck with no fears that they would do such a thing. 

And then Jongdae pushes away those thoughts because they are here right now to read, and he’s not going to overstep another boundary. Ah, why does he always go for the rich ones?

“‘It took 11 minutes for anyone to respond, which is why this whole thing was justified in the first place.’”

~~~

Lu Han is punctual to a fault. And by that, Jongdae means that he’s faulty with time, never failing to show up too early to any appointment they set. Sometimes he gets to Jongdae’s home before Jongdae does, which is the only reason why Jongdae copied his key for him to use.

When Jongdae reaches for his keys and hears the sound of the kettle reaching its boiling point inside, he knows that it means that Lu Han’s already here, nearly half an hour early, as usual.

The autumn leaves that decorated Jongdae’s floor every time Lu Han came in to read are gone, replaced by the slight slush of snow and cold air that never fails to follow Lu Han all the way through the building. It’s surprising, but time flies, and he can soon say that he’s known Lu Han for three months.

Their reading appointments have always fallen on a Saturday afternoon, even if they start meeting up more and more for other things besides books. Meeting together to be friends. Friends is a nice word, even if Jongdae doesn’t think that they’re really friends. Maybe more, maybe less. Maybe book-club friends would be the best way to describe it. Yeah, that also sounds nice.

After all this time, they’re still reading in Jongdae’s small little apartment, though it’s not for lack of trying. They tried reading in a cafe, but then that meant they couldn’t read out loud, and it soon became too cold to leave their own homes and trek to an agreed on area. Lu Han invited Jongdae over to his home, a penthouse in one of the richest neighborhoods of Seoul, but despite all of its finery, it was so empty, so cold and unused, the only thing messed up in the entire place being Lu Han’s bed and closet. They collectively agreed it would be better to just read in the familiar comfort of Jongdae’s couch, Jongdae because he didn’t like how Lu Han’s place is so cold, and Lu Han probably because he just liked the blanket Jongdae found and decided to designate one day as the couch blanket. 

“I made some tea.” Lu Han greets him at the door with a cup of black tea, slight blend of coffee and sugar inside. 

“Thank you. I’m glad to see you made it alright, the traffic wasn’t bad, was it?” Jongdae chuckles as Lu Han helps him out of his coat, hanging it up as if greeting Jongdae into his own home. 

“No, it was fine today so I got here a bit earlier than a half an hour. How was the traffic for you today? Was it bad?” Lu Han smirks, taking a sip from Jongdae’s cup. It had taken 5 meetings for Jongdae to cave in and say that he wasn’t exactly a tea person, so Lu Han had the genius idea of putting a slight bit of coffee in the black tea, though Jongdae never gets the mixture quite right, and then suddenly Jongdae became a “tea” person.

“No, it was perfectly fine, just annoying like usual.” Jongdae slips his feet into his slippers, finally taking his cup and following Lu Han in. The joke came after Lu Han, gasping for air and spitting out apologies, arrived on his doorstep one Saturday afternoon, 26 minutes early. 

“So what book are we reading today?” Jongdae asks, reaching the couch as Lu Han reaches behind a cushion and pulls out another tiny box. “Don’t tell me you did.”

“I’m sorry, but I feel bad about not showing up with anything, and this lady was really nice to me. She even threw in a free watch with the purchase.” Lu Han offers weakly, already knowing that Jongdae’s even weaker. 

“You’re going to make a magpie out of me.” Jongdae sighs, already given up.

Lu Han also insists on bringing a gift for Jongdae every time, including the time Jongdae showed up to his house with desserts also in tow, because he felt bad that he was always getting something. He’s gotten more bottles of wine and chocolate than he would need in a lifetime, and after he had a slightly firm talk with Lu Han about he didn’t need any more food or these luxury items, Lu Han stopped bringing them. Unfortunately that meant he decided that Jongdae should start getting jewelry, things he claims are from random market stalls and picked up in gift areas because they reminded him of Jongdae. Jongdae also has a never-ending supply of autumn crocus, despite it no longer being in season, but every time Lu Han comes, the dying flowers in his vase all magically “come back to life.” He’ll find out how Lu Han keeps replacing them without him seeing, one day.

“You’ll be a well-sated magpie however.” Lu Han points out, pulling out another set of rings, and a bracelet bedazzled in false gems, shaped like a snake. 

“Don’t encourage yourself.” Jongdae hisses with no real venom, running a hand over the metal imitation of scales, wondering how someone could make something this beautiful. 

“Do you want to put it on?” Lu Han asks, picking up the bracelet, gently uncoiling the snake slightly, ready to slide it onto Jongdae’s wrist like a store clerk at a counter offering to help Jongdae try it on. 

“It looks like it could be broken if I twist too hard.” Jongdae comments, sticking his hand out for Luhan to do so. 

Luhan shakes his head as he twists the little silver snake back into place. “It’s some good quality metal, you could probably run it over and it’ll be fine.” Then he flicks the head of the snake up, revealing a little watch face on the minimalistic style most watches seem to favour. “It’s also a watch so it’s functional!”

Jongdae turns the watch slightly, watching it catch the light from his window and bounce across the room. It’s so fancy that it’s almost tacky for him to wear it in the middle of his little apartment, but it’s a gift, and he greatly appreciates it. Still, he’s probably not going to be busting it out until he has a fancy dinner, unlike some of the more functional watches that Lu Han’s bought him. 

“Thank you.” He turns, finding Lu Han no longer standing by his side, but actually curled up on the couch, the blanket thrown over himself as naturally as if he lived here. 

“No need to thank me, as long as it makes you smile, then it’s worth it.” Lu Han needs to stop saying things like this, because it’s bad for Jongdae’s heart. Then he pats the space next to him, and raises up the book, and Jongdae unfreezes for long enough to crawl into the spot, nice and warm. Lu Han slings an arm over his shoulder so the book is held in front of Jongdae’s face, Jongdae fitting perfectly into Lu Han’s arms.

“Am I reading or are you reading?” Lu Han asks, really just a courtesy question, since they both know who left off last time, Jongdae finishing the session with the chapter cliffhanger.

“You are, with the flower trap chapter.” Lu Han hmms an acknowledgement as he flips to the right page, the light brushing of the pages echoing in the air. 

“Flowers start out as thing seeds, helpless, with nothing but the bare necessities for survival. They are beautiful, but before now, they do not seem deadly.” Lu Han’s voice starts in a slow rise, a hum next to Jongdae’s ear, “The prettiest things are the deadliest, and some people do not take care to remember that.”

It’s a voice of lullaby quality, perfect to put someone to sleep with. Jongdae loves it, almost as much as he loves when he has to read and Lu Han settles quieter against him, almost as if holding his breath to be able to fully hear Jongdae. 

He likes Lu Han, a lot. Maybe he’s always known that, but it took a bit to finally accept it. Shixun warns to beware of flower cages, but Lu Han isn’t a trap. Even if he is one, Jongdae would still willingly get trapped. Lu Han has settled himself too firmly into Jongdae’s life, and Jongdae doesn’t think he wants to let him go. 

But those concerns about how nicely they fit together are for another day, for now, he settles into Lu Han’s arms and listens to his dreamlike voice, wondering about the present.

~~~

It’s been awhile since it snowed, the first snow sticking barely over night before the temperature started to rise, just high enough that the snow comes down and doesn’t stick longer than an hour after it stops. Jongdae wakes up to the perfect winter morning, snow gently coming down, and a dusting of white covering everything above the road. It’s the perfect blend of cold and gentle snow that Jongdae doesn’t want to leave the apartment, especially when he’s going to eventually have to come back anyways to read later anyways. But he needs to shop for groceries and meet up with Lu Han in this cafe that just opened before then, so he forces himself up, bundles well, and leaves the house. 

An hour later, he staggers into a new cafe that had just opened, wallet lighter and fridge fuller, Lu Han, surprisingly, isn’t there yet, but Chanyeol and Baekhyun are, sitting at a table and chatting quietly. Of course, Chanyeol spots him almost as soon as he spots them, and beckons him over, a huge smile on his face.

“You’re visiting this new cafe too?” Chanyeol says in lieu of greeting, giving Jongdae a slight hug when he approaches.

“Yeah.” Jongdae shrugs, not wanting to mention the real reason he’s here, because the two might get pouty that “he hadn’t introduced them to Lu Han,” yet. That’s too much for him to handle in this weather and while still this cold, but maybe they can talk about it later. At least, that’s what happens until he starts removing his coat, taking off layers by instinct due to sudden warmth.

“Hey, why did you come out all dolled-up?” Baekhyun asks, voice laced full of suspicion. Jongdae freezes in the middle of peeling off his coat from his honey yellow cardigan and looks down. He’s not dressed up at all?

“I’m not dolled up at all. I’ve had this cardigan for years?” Jongdae asks in confusion as he pulls his puffy coat off.

“You’re wearing a button-up with a collar! You’ve never worn a button-up with a collar since interviewing for jobs.” Baekhyun exclaims triumphantly, and Chanyeol gasps, widening his eyes as if scandalised. Jongdae has worn a button-up with a collar plenty of times, but usually during his reading time with Lu Han. 

“Wait, what are you wearing?” He gaps, as if something’s gone suddenly very very wrong.

“A cardigan and a button-up as Baekhyun helpfully pointed out?” Jongdae repeats, not entirely sure what Chanyeol would be looking for.

“No, I mean-“ the gust of wind blowing a flurry of snow into the store catches everyone’s attention and thankfully interrupts Chanyeol. But there stands Lu Han, with his infamously bright smile, directed straight at Jongdae. Oh. Well, he didn’t really think the not telling Chanyeol and Baekhyun part through, did he?

“Jongdae!” Lu Han exclaims, and Jongdae can nearly hear the hum that is Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s brains going into overdrive behind him. 

“Hey, Lu Han.” Jongdae waves a hand, one of the simpler of the watches that Lu Han had got him on full display. 

“You’re wearing the watch I got you!” Lu Han exclaims happily as he makes his way over to Jongdae still standing in front of Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s table. There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him from Chanyeol, and then there are whispers to Baekhyun in the shorthand that those two had long managed to develop. 

“Yeah. I figured that I might as well start wearing it out because I didn’t want it to go to waste on the shelf.” Jongdae smiles, ignoring his best friends for now. 

Baekhyun coughs an “Excuse me,” and Jongdae turns around, unable to prevent the inevitable anymore. 

“Yeah, these are my friends, Baekhyun and Chanyeol.” The two wave innocently, acting like nothing’s changed. “And this is Lu Han, my, uh-“

“Hi, I’m Jongdae’s reading partner.” Lu Han steps forwards, offering a hand to shake, with a specific emphasis on the partner. Thank goodness, because friend doesn’t really cover what Lu Han is to him. But does reading partner cover it either?

Baekhyun’s smile shifts slightly harder, a quizzical look starting to take over his face slightly. “Nice to meet you, Lu Han. You seem familiar, have I met you before?”

Chanyeol’s phone blocks Lu Han from answering, as he takes a look at the caller id, says a quick “sorry” and makes a beeline towards the door, leaving his coat behind. 

“I’ll buy us drinks. What do you want?” Jongdae asks Lu Han, deciding that it would be in his best interest to leave the conversation before Baekhyun demands something from him. Lu Han will be fine, Baekhyun’s nice to people he doesn’t know as well.

“A medium americano, and you should try the house special. You’ll like it.” Lu Han takes the coat and scarf from Jongdae’s hands, leaving his hands free. 

Jongdae glances at Baekhyun, whose “you’re not getting away from this scot-free” look seems to have a bit less bite than usual, and heads away. “Sure. I’ll be right back, can you find us a seat?”

Lu Han nods, flashing Jongdae a smile that while beautiful, does nothing to put Jongdae’s heart at ease.

He takes a look back once he’s on the line, and Lu Han has a seat at the table next to Baekhyun and is dragging it closer and closer as they talk. Their expressions are light, or at least Lu Han’s is, so nothing bad must be happening. 

After making the order, Jongdae drifts back slightly towards Baekhyun and Lu Han, under the pretense of grabbing some straws and napkins. Lu Han’s carefree smile is no longer a smile, and from the tone of Baekhyun’s voice and the fact they both haven’t noticed him drifting closer, it’s not a light topic. 

“He was a rich asshole. I’m not calling you an asshole, but I’m saying that I’m not willing to let my best friend get hurt by someone else of the same coin.” Baekhyun states, and Jongdae hears the firm steel of the boy who once fought a chaebol heir for him. 

Lu Han nods, his next words as solemn and as quiet as Baekhyun’s. “We’re not dating, but I’ll never purposefully hurt him. If he wants to be more than friends then it’ll be his choice, since I’m willing to wait for him to decide.” 

“Jongdae!” Jongdae snaps out of eavesdropping on the conversation at the sound of his name, the barista done with his order calling his name. The house special, a chai latte, tastes better than Jongdae expected, and it seems like Baekhyun and Lu Han managed to come to a resolution when Jongdae gets back. 

“Hey, why didn’t you tell me about such a cutie? Wanted to keep him all to yourself, I see.” Baekhyun doesn’t even give Jongdae the chance to set down Lu Han’s drink before he attacks, winking at Lu Han. Jongdae is not going to acknowledge that that was part of the reason why, but rolls his eyes, setting the drink down in front of Lu Han.

Lu Han laughs as he accepts the americano and straw from Jongdae, the two apparently suddenly in cahoots. “Thank you Chen, and it’s okay, I’m honoured to be all yours.” 

“When did you two get to be such close friends?” Jongdae raises an eyebrow, sipping his latte. 

“Aww, are you hurt? I promise that I won’t steal your boyfriend, Chen.” Baekhyun mocks, his smile a bit too smug.

Arms wrap around his waist and a warmth unrelated to his drink blooms within Jongdae’s chest as Lu Han rests his head on Jongdae’s side, pulling him close. 

“Baekhyun, you’re engaged.” Jongdae retorts, feeling a bit more at ease with Lu Han’s silent encouragement. Baekhyun glances at the ring around his finger that he somehow hadn’t already shown off to the whole cafe and shrugs.

His smirk is a bit too mischievous when he replies, “Yeollie doesn’t mind if I look.” 

The man in question, Chanyeol, barrows back into the cafe, still on the phone, nodding and slipping in occasional “yeses,” and “of courses.” He shoots Baekhyun a glance while mouthing something that looks like nonsense but apparently has more meaning for Baekhyun before grabbing his coat, giving a slight apologetic bow to Lu Han and Jongdae, before walking back out again.

Baekhyun gets up with a slight sigh, pulling his arms into his coat sleeves as he goes. “Alright, duty calls. It’s been nice meeting you, but there’s an emergency at work so we need to go. Chen, we are both going to need a full sit-down dinner with Lu Han.”

“Of course.” Lu Han replies for Jongdae, agreeing before hearing the terms. “That sounds like a great idea.” 

“Cool. Get my number from Chen, we can arrange it.” Baekhyun picks up the two coffees on the table, waves a slight goodbye, and steps into the winter day as well.

There’s a notable quiet after the quick mess that was Baekhyun and Chanyeol, leaving Lu Han and Jongdae looking at each other, basking in the warmth and each other’s presence. 

“Should we just go to my apartment early?” Jongdae asks, breaking the silence.

“Sure. I don’t think sitting here is quite right anymore.” Lu Han agrees, letting Jongdae go.

The quiet walk down the few blocks is what Jongdae needs to think and process all that just occurred. Gentle dusting of snow upon him and Lu Han side by side, and when Lu Han reaches for his hand to hold and put into a pocket, Jongdae doesn’t resist.

Lu Han wasn’t really subtle about his feelings, but Jongdae didn’t quite acknowledge them, or rather just kinda pushed them off to the side because it seemed like it wasn’t really the time to do anything about them. Lu Han says he can wait, but can he? 

What a blessing it is, knowing that the person you like, likes you back and is waiting for you to make the first move. 

He passed Baekhyun’s test, whatever kind of a test there must have been, so all Jongdae needs to do is ask. But not just yet. Later, away from the snow.

“You’re such an interesting person.” Lu Han blows away a snowflake after he speaks, but it doesn’t blow away the snowflakes already resting in his hair, giving him a shine that shifts the light in his eyes to not quite human, but greater, more.

“And what do you mean by that?” Jongdae asks, pulling his hand away from Lu Han’s and out of his pocket to open the door, letting them and a bit of the outside into the lobby of Jongdae’s apartment building. 

“I’m always curious, I want to learn more about you.” Their hands come back together as soon as they are both inside. Jongdae doesn’t bother convincing himself that it’s just because they’re both cold. “From the moment I saw you, you seemed to be the most intriguing person I’ve ever seen.” Lu Han continues, leading Jongdae into the elevator.

“Really?” 

“Really.”

“I’m honoured.” Jongdae smiles, and Lu Han smiles back. 

Ironically, as if the universe is doing nothing but sending signals, when they’re finally settled in on the couch, draped neatly over each other and Jongdae turns the page of the complete collection of Shixun’s poems, they land directly in his love poem section, starting off nicely with some good ones about confession.

Lu Han takes a breath and starts to read, breathing life into the words, 

“I asked a spirit for a wish. 

A simple wish of a heart. 

Show it so I need not hurt with words. 

Maybe then if nothing 

happens it would be because 

they watch not over me,

And not because 

the fault lies with me for

not speaking.”

“Do you think such spirits exist?” Jongdae does not move onto the next poem, but interrupts the started flow by throwing in his own thoughts, opening discussion earlier than he usually would.

Lu Han considers it, silence drawing over his words. “Well, what do you mean by such spirits?”

“Like ones that would watch over a person, not even necessarily grant wishes, but maybe to be around to have a nudge in the right directions.” Jongdae explains, a hazy feeling coming from perhaps himself, perhaps the poem, and perhaps both. 

The first time he met Lu Han, he was too shocked by his beauty, but the second time brought the feeling of familiarity. Baekhyun feels it too, so perhaps it could be fate or whatever spirit it was, just a little nudge in the right direction for Jongdae.

“I believe yes.” Lu Han blinks, but in the second before his eyes close, there’s a shine, a slight reflection of light, shaded the purple of autumn crocuses. Jongdae turns his attention to the flower vase on the windowsill and finds his flowers, which were starting to wilt this morning, standing bright and lovely once again. 

Shixun asked for a spirit so he would not have to speak his feelings. Jongdae’s spirits know the truth, and push him to speak. “The title of this poem is Curious.”

“Let me be for

you

and only

you.

For as long as 

Time allows

You to be 

mine

for equally as long.

Because together we are 

an enigma

cryptic”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate comments! Even if you just lfjghdshafjdhsbaownsdfhci ld,a all over the place, it'll make my day.


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